Firmin: Adventures of a Metropolitan Lowlife by Sam Savage

For TC Style September/October 2006.

“As Francis Bacon knew, “Some books are to be tasted, others to be swallowed, and some few to be chewed and digested.”

Every fall without fail I get the urge to find a bench in a nice tree-laden park with coffee and a book that reminds me of the joy of reading and writing. This year, I chose a peculiar story about a rat. Almost reminiscent of the classic tale of Algernon, Firmin: Adventures of a Metropolitan Lowlife by Sam Savage is the story of a rat born in an East Coast used bookstore that survived on books, first by eating the shredded pages his mother Flo used to make her nest, and then, miraculously, starts to read them.

Through this phenomenon, Firmin becomes literate and develops a voracious appetite for books, further distancing him from his fellow rodents and bringing him closer to the humans he so adores, Norman Shine in particular, the bookstore owner with an astounding wealth of knowledge. Unfortunately for Firmin, he quickly learns that his adoration of the human race is not reciprocated, especially with Norman placing rat poison traps, which sends Firmin out into the streets and finds shelter with a dejected science fiction writer.

Sam Savage, holding a doctorate in philosophy from Yale, brings a lot into this novel. Not only is it an amusing feast for bibliophiles, but Firmin’s observations bring a lot of questions about the human condition to consideration. Bear in mind the Western connotation of the word “rat,” which Firmin surely encounters in his reading (as well as, amusingly, his contempt for Mickey Mouse and Stuart Little) and the Eastern (Asian) understanding that the rat is cunning and intelligent with a great survival instinct. The poor reputation that the rat holds in our continent comes to mind when first reading Firmin’s story, and brings back memories of the dejected, somber story in Dostoevsky’s Crime and Punishment.

The story of Firmin is such a fantastic trip for book lovers and both casual and serious students of philosophy. The intelligent rat finds solace and relief from his outsider status by becoming the characters, having to remind himself that “Eisenhower is real, Oliver Twist is not.” This strong desire for escapism is all too familiar, where the weak can imagine themselves strong, the lonely loved. Firmin strives to reach out to his beloved humans, even trying at sign language, but to no avail, and at some point tries to change his somber lack of success by going to the Rialton movie theatre, where he experiences lust after watching the nude actresses at the late night show, making his condition even more painful, more … human.

Savage positions before the reader these two elemental aspects of humanity; the earthy nature of the body and the spiritual realm of the mind. By casting this dichotomy into the body of a conscious rat, he is able to mock our delusions and perceptions. Holding a mirror up to our souls in the character of Firmin, we question our essential selves and our understanding of reality. Should our perceptions be taken as true or, like Firmin, do we delude ourselves into believing we are other than what we are?

Both of Firmin’s temples offer an escape from reality and the pull from both is strong. By casting the theatre into the role of seducer, Savage resurrects the worry that movies will destroy books. While today it is clear that books have survived the assault of movies and television, the concern for the relevance of the great works of literature in modern society continues.

I’m not often swayed by modern writings, but this one has gotten to my top 10 of the year. Autumn colors in central Illinois have a knack for making me want to read even more than I already do, and this is just the right fuel for the fire.